


ready for love (or: how dean learned to stop worrying and love his angel)

by omgimnaked



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:21:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgimnaked/pseuds/omgimnaked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean in the Impala. Window-fogging ensues. Baby gets to see *all* the fun stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ready for love (or: how dean learned to stop worrying and love his angel)

**Author's Note:**

> "Ready for Love", as I'm sure we all know, is the song from the Dean/Anna sex scene. I wanted it to be the song from a Cas/Dean sex scene.

As far as Dean Winchester is concerned, there’s no sexier song out there than “Ready for Love” by Bad Company. 

It’s been a move in his arsenal since his first outings in the sexual arena. He can’t say it’s had a one hundred percent success rate. Dean has kicked more than a few half-dressed girls into the cold for dissing his music, throwing pieces of clothing out of the Impala’s window to be searched for in the dark.

But the really good ones go for it.

***

"What is this music?" Cas asks with that head tilt that always makes Dean wonder how an unspeakably old angel can look that much like a confused puppy.

"Sorry, I don't have the Hallelujah chorus or whatever gets you guys off, but it's my car, and--"

Cas cuts him off mid-rant.

"I like it." He places his hand on Dean's thigh, moving it up slowly. "Very much."

Dean is hit with an overwhelming urge to say "Fuck, I love you," but instead growls out a "fuck yeah," and pulls Cas in for what turns out to be as much of a bite as it is a kiss. Dean moves down to Cas’ neck, kissing and biting, stubble scratching at him on the way. He grabs at the ridiculous trenchcoat that Castiel somehow makes look good, the first step in stripping off Cas’ Holy Tax Accountant uniform. Once the coat is removed, Dean makes an executive decision.

“Back seat.”

One of the million things Dean loves about Baby is her back seat. Plenty of room for sleeping, which he’s done more times than he cared to count, and for doing everything but sleeping, which he’s done his fair share of as well.

Once they’re in the back seat, Dean resumes stripping off the many, many layers that he thinks Cas wears just to piss him off.

“Can’t you dress like a normal person?” Dean asks as he works at removing the suit jacket. 

This is a fight they’ve had more times than Dean can count.

“These are the clothes Jimmy was wearing when I took him on as a vessel, I’ve had no need to change them.”

“Yeah, or you just like being a pain in my ass,” Dean huffs as he loosens, then removes the blue tie. He contemplates just ripping the shirt off, too many fuckin’ buttons, but he’s done it before and Cas bitched, as if it was a real hassle to use his angel magic and fix it up again.

“You could help me out here, y’know.”

In the spirit of cooperation, Cas works his shoes and socks off his feet while unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Dean whips the undershirt over his head, and working as a team, they manage to remove the pants. Dean throws them in triumph, and they drape over Baby’s dash.

In a flash, Dean whips off his black t-shirt, kicks off his boots and shoes, and shucks his jeans.

“See how fucking easy that was? You need new clothes, I’m telling you.”

Cas shuts Dean up by pulling him down on top of him, hands on the side of his face as their lips join again. Cas lowers a hand to Dean’s ass, and in return, Dean thrusts his hips forward, closing all distance left between them. Dean grabs at Cas’s shoulder, giving a slight hiss and digging in with his nails as Cas bites his neck. Cas reaches in between them and grabs Dean’s cock, stroking at it lightly through the cotton of Dean’s boxer-briefs. Dean’s breath hitches and he swallows hard.

“Cas, I...”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Fuck. Look, dude, I’m not a friggin’ girl, but...” Dean huffs out a frustrated sigh and rakes a hand through his hair.

“That much is obvious at this point, Dean.”

“Cas, shut up, seriously. Anyway, I can’t fuckin’ believe I’m saying this but...”

Dean trails off again, and Castiel, somehow knowing to give him space to say what he’s trying to get out, just looks up at Dean expectantly.

“Christ, I--”

Castiel, out of habit more than anything, winces at the blasphemy, but doesn’t comment.

“Iwantyoutofuckme.”

Cas doesn’t make Dean repeat himself, just looks up at him, blue eyes ridiculously wide, as he ponders the enormity of Dean’s statement. This was far from the first time he and Dean had ‘fooled around’, as Dean called it for some reason Castiel didn’t understand. It didn’t feel like anything that could be called ‘fooling.’ It felt serious and intense, almost too much so sometimes. But Dean scorned ‘talking about their feelings’, and Castiel tried his best not to abuse his bond with Dean. However, a few of the times Dean had stopped himself short of saying “I love you” to Cas, he’d sort of felt it anyway.

“Uh, Cas? You’re kinda leaving me hanging here.”

Castiel shakes his head lightly, as if to bring himself back into the moment.

“I would be truly honored, Dean.”

“Fuck, Cas, don’t ruin this by...being you.”

Castiel knows Dean too well by now to be insulted by the comment. Besides, Dean is blushing, and it takes a lot to make Dean Winchester blush. He’s clearly coping with the moment the best way he knows how, deflection via humor.

Pointedly avoiding any other potentially embarrassing comments, Cas simply asks, “So, how do you want to do this?”

Dean is already in the process of answering Cas’ question, moving so they can switch positions, then lying down against the leather seat, head resting on the door with Cas’ trenchcoat serving as a makeshift pillow. Cas quickly removes his underwear, the basic white boxers which Jimmy had favored and Dean had often teased him about (“you’re wearing the underwear of an old man, you do know this?”), then moves on to removing Dean’s black boxer-briefs.

Castiel shakes slightly, blue eyes wide and almost wild, intimidated by the trust that Dean has shown in him, and further intimidated by the realization of the humanity in his reaction. Then again, what act was more human than this one, which he and Dean had engaged in more times than he’d kept count of?

Dean clears his throat and narrows his green eyes impatiently.

“We’re losing the moment, Cas. Don’t go all thinky on me here.”

Dean is obviously intimidated too, although he covers it up as he does most of his emotions, with false bravado. Cas isn’t the first guy he’s fooled around with, but he’s definitely the first guy he’s been willing to give himself to in this way (any acts which had taken place so Sammy wouldn’t have to go to school hungry most definitely did not count).

Cas leans over Dean to kiss him once more, fitting one hand over the raised handprint on Dean’s arm, grabbing at his hair with the other. Dean is the one to reach down between them now, wrapping his fingers around Cas’ dick at the base, stroking his way up and rubbing his thumb over the head, then doing it all again. Cas grabs at Dean’s hair and scratches down his back as it becomes harder to breathe. The back seat, while roomy, is still only so large, and the windows are fogging from the heat he and Dean are creating.

Cas reaches down and places his own hand, which is now covered with lube seemingly by magic, over Dean’s to still it.

“Always prepared, huh, my angel boy scout?” Dean’s voice has gone lower than usual.

Cas answers by grabbing Dean’s leg, putting it over his shoulder, and slowly pushing one lubed finger inside him. He doesn’t move for a second, getting used to how it feels being on the other side of the equation for the first time. After he’s used to the sensation, he adds another finger, then repeats the process.

“Fuck, Cas, I’m not your prom date, I’m not a delicate flower, just fu--”

Cas pushes deeper and crooks the two fingers just so, effectively cutting off Dean’s diatribe and replacing it with a low moan. After a few more moments, Cas adds one more finger, and Dean resorts to more begging.

“Cas, please, just...”

Castiel once again cuts Dean off, this time by removing his fingers. Dean doesn’t have the time to work up a protest before Cas is entering him slowly, watching Dean’s face as it changes from nearly wincing to something more akin to pleasure. Once this expression is in place, Cas feels the cue to move; thrusting slowly, but quickening his pace as urgency grows. He reaches down to stroke Dean in time with his thrusts, and if any music is still playing, he takes no notice over the sounds of Dean’s grunts and moans and the heartbeat of his vessel pounding in his ears.

Dean pulls him back into the moment by speaking hoarsely, “Cas, I’m gonna...”

Castiel quickens the pace of his strokes. As the first stripe of Dean’s come hits his chest and Dean’s muscles clench around him, he feels the familiar feeling of stomach tightening, toes curling, and he continues thrusting as he rides out his own orgasm. When it’s over, he nearly collapses, head coming to rest on Dean’s chest. Cas feels wrung-out, boneless, and utterly overwhelmed, but listening to Dean’s still-quick heartbeat slowing down to its normal level helps him come back to himself. After a moment passes, he slips out of Dean, somewhat mourning the loss of the connection they had shared.

Dean picks up his t-shirt from the floor, cleaning the mess from them as best as he can with it before discarding it once more. He wiggles back into his underwear and jeans. Cas takes the cue and attempts to do the same, putting on his boxers (“I gotta get you some new underwear, Cas”) and groping fruitlessly for his pants before remembering that they’re currently decorating the dash of the Impala.

“It’s cool, you don’t need pants.”

“I would argue that you don’t require yours either, Dean, yet you are wearing them.”

The pants are in Cas’ hands before Dean can process what’s happened, and just as fast, Cas is wearing them again. Angel mojo, man. Nothin’ like it.

“Leave the shirt off, Cas. I don’t have one anymore, fair’s fair.”

Cas doesn’t argue, just lays his head on Dean’s bare chest to listen to the marvel of the heartbeat of this man, who was dead and buried until Castiel raised his soul from hell. This man who had led Castiel to rebel against heaven.

“Dean, I--”

Dean cuts him off with words so quiet that Castiel can barely hear them over his heartbeat. 

“I love you too, Cas.”

END


End file.
